Pearle Swanson and her husband, Frank, arrived in Scranton two weeks later on an unusually warm mid-November day. They had arranged to use a horse and buggy from the Scranton livery and planned to take the improved road to Haley. Pearle and Doc were the same age, even though Pearle was his niece. In order not to confuse the children, Bess told them that they would be visited by Auntie Pearle and Uncle Frank.
Doc met Pearle and Frank at the boarding house in Haley shortly after they arrived. Together in the late afternoon they came to the homestead in the horse and buggy with Doc riding alongside on his horse. They weren’t coming for supper, but Bess had planned to serve apple pie and the special rum sauce that she had prepared. Bess met them at the front door of the sod house.
Bess greeted the visitors with a smile and held out her hand. “Pearle,” she said. “Doc has told me good things about you, and I’m so happy to meet you.”
Pearle smiled and shook Bess’s hand. “So delighted to meet you, Bess.” She turned toward her husband and said, “Bess, this is my husband, Frank.”
Bess shook Frank’s hand and said, “Please come in. I want you to meet the children.”
Bess took them into the living room, which she had straightened up to the best of her ability. Marion and Helen were standing politely, anxious to meet Auntie Pearle and Uncle Frank.
The little girls smiled politely and enthusiastically. “I’m Marion and this is Helen,” Marion said with a broad grin. Bess had dressed the little girls in blue and white dresses that Mama had made for them.
Pearle smiled at each of the girls and gave each a warm hug. “I’m Auntie Pearle,” she said.
Frank smiled and simply said, “I’m Uncle Frank.” He looked at Bess and grinned.
Both Pearle and Frank were dressed unlike the residents of Haley, who normally wore farm and ranch work clothing. Pearle wore a long pale- yellow dress with white lace, and Frank was wearing a trim black suit that Bess assumed had been specifically tailored for him.
Pearle and Frank didn’t look like Bess had imagined. Pearle was a tall woman, trim and pretty with blue eyes sparkling behind rimless spectacles, and dark hair put up neatly in a bun. She appeared friendly and gregarious. Frank was shorter than Pearle—maybe three inches shorter, thought Bess—and rather portly. His head was slightly balding and he had rosy cheeks and rather large ears.
Both Marion and Helen were anxious to show them that they could spell different words with the small wooden squares with letters of the alphabet on them. They spelled such words as cat, dog, horse, and house. Marion quickly arranged some of the letters to spell the word potty. “What’s that spell?” she asked with a grin.
Bess was slightly embarrassed and quickly removed the letters while both Pearle and Frank burst out with a hearty laugh. The girls both giggled and jumped up and down.
During the entire visit, Doc rarely said anything except an occasional “Yep.” He seemed rather uninterested in both Pearle and Frank. Other than that, the two-hour visit was very pleasant, and after the pie with rum sauce, Pearle and Frank prepared to leave to go back to the Haley boarding house.
“Delightful,” said Pearle. “Both Frank and I hope that sometime you will be able to visit us in Chicago. You are certainly welcome anytime, and, of course, we would love to have the girls stay with us. Will you write to me?” she asked.
“Of course I will,” said Bess, rather surprised, but happy that she asked.
“Good,” said Pearle. “Here’s our address in Chicago.” She took a small white card out of her handbag and gave it to Bess.
Both girls gave Auntie Pearle and Uncle Frank hugs as they went out the front door and stood waving frantically as the visitors rode slowly toward Haley.
After they had left, Doc grabbed his coat and headed out the door. “Gotta go over to the horse ranch,” he said, and left without even saying goodbye.
Bess was very pleased with the visit and enjoyed both Pearle and Frank—especially Pearle. She was disheartened at Doc’s lack of participation in even so much as a discussion. As she thought about it, she began to feel the pain low in her belly.
The 1913-1914 winter was mild and Doc continued his silence--often coming to the house late in the evening and drunk. There were times when Bess wished that he wouldn’t even come home because when he did, he was quiet and seemingly uninterested in the children anymore.
The pain that Bess had been feeling came and went more frequently, so it seemed, but only occasionally would she experience the blood in the morning. She was becoming quite large and could feel the baby moving from time to time—an encouraging sign—but this pregnancy was far more difficult than she had experienced before. She had tried to follow Dr. Poppe’s advice about reducing her physical activities, but taking care of the little girls kept her busy, and baby Billy began to require more attention.
In early March Bess began to experience the pain more frequently. It was becoming sharp and more frequent, and she didn’t feel the baby moving any more. Something is wrong, she thought. She began to feel the onset of labor and became worried—Doc wasn’t home. Jim can help, she thought. Bess sent Marion out to fetch Jim from the sheep wagon and when he came inside, Bess asked him to ride into Haley to get Dr. Poppe. “Tell him I think I’m in labor and I think I’m in trouble,” she said breathlessly. The pain was becoming more intense and she was feeling the contractions more frequently.
Jim saddled Annabel quickly and headed off to Haley. Within an hour he was back with both Dr. Poppe and his wife. When Dr. Poppe came into the house, Bess was having considerable pain and contractions nearly every minute. “Jim,” said Dr. Poppe to Jim Edgar, “why don’t you take the girls outside for a while.”
Jim helped the girls put on their coats and led them outside to his sheep wagon. Mrs. Poppe held baby Billy, who was fast asleep.
Within an hour, Dr. Poppe delivered the baby. But there were no cries. Dr. Poppe was silent for a few minutes as he examined the newborn. Then he turned to Bess and said sadly, “Bess, I’m afraid she’s gone.”
Gone? Bess thought. My baby’s gone? “What do you mean?” she asked.
“Stillborn,” said Dr. Poppe. “I’m so very sorry, Bess.”
Bess choked back tears. Dr. Poppe’s wife was at Bess’s bedside and held her hand. Bess didn’t know what to say. She just cried silently. And Doc’s not home, she thought as she wept. She began to feel an intense anger. A little girl, she thought. I would have named her Nellie—after Mama.
Doc came home the next afternoon. Sober.
He burst into the house out of breath. “What happened? The baby?”
Bess was making supper for the children. She looked pale and tired, and felt as though she had been kicked by a horse. She looked at Doc angrily. “We lost the baby.” Then she started to cry.
Doc stood silent for a moment. “Mr. Currie told me,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
Bess felt as though she wanted to hit him with a shovel. “Sorry,” she said. “You’re sorry?”
Doc said nothing. He held out his arms as though wanting Bess to come to him, but she didn’t.
“You weren’t here, Chris. Were you drunk?”
Doc was silent for a moment and looked down at his feet. “Sorry, Bess.”
Bess looked at him in disgust. “Go back to your horse ranch,” she said angrily. “Go get drunk, too.”
“Where’s the baby?” Doc asked meekly.
“Dr. Poppe took Nellie,” choked Bess. Then she started to cry. “Just leave. Now!”
“Nellie?”
“That is the name I gave her,” said Bess. “Now leave!”
Doc turned around and left the house, got on his horse, and rode away.
Bess stood silently by the stove, bowed her head, and cried softly. Now I know how Martha felt when she lost her child, she thought.
Three days later Bess took the children into Haley where the pastor of the Lutheran church performed a short funeral service for baby Nellie. Mr. and Mrs. Currie, Mr
. and Mrs. Feist, and Ken and Sarah Fisher were in attendance. Nellie was buried in the small cemetery behind the church. Bess did not tell Doc about the funeral because she hadn’t seen him. It’s just as well that he’s not here, she thought. It’s not as if he really cared what happened to me or to the baby. I’d be better off without him.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Two weeks passed before Doc returned to the homestead. This time he was completely sober and looked a bit contrite. “Want to help with the lambing,” he said as he walked in. “OK with you?”
“Fine,” said Bess. “Should be starting any day now.”
Bess was still furious with Doc and rarely spoke to him during the next two weeks even though he slept in the house, stayed completely sober, and tried to be pleasant. He’s trying, thought Bess. At least he’s trying.
Doc stayed through the lambing time and helped with the delivery of forty new calves, which significantly increased the herd. He and Jim Edgar sheared the sheep and were successful in selling the wool, which was at an all-time high price.
When all the shearing had been done, Doc said that he would have to go to the horse ranch to tend to the remaining saddle horses. The relationship between Doc and Bess had become significantly more formal, even though they had been sharing the same bed during the past few weeks since Doc returned after Nellie’s funeral service. They were cordial to one another, but a chasm had grown between them. Bess didn’t know whether she even wanted to cross it.
Three days later Doc had not returned. Probably drunk, Bess thought. And in the late afternoon, black clouds were billowing to the west over the Teepee Buttes. Another thunderstorm, thought Bess. Bad one, too.
This time the storm didn’t strike in the middle of the night and Bess had time to safely secure the children in the root cellar as the fury of the storm raged for nearly an hour. Jim Edgar joined them in the shelter. When the storm finally blew over, Bess took the children into the house and put them to bed. She then went outside to inspect the shed and fences and Jim told her that the livestock made it through the storm with no problem. “Lots of wind,” he said, “but looks like no damage.”
Bess wondered about Doc and how he might have fared through the storm at his horse ranch. The wind had been fierce and she knew that windmills could be toppled, roofs blown off, and livestock harmed by flying debris.
Bess spent the day tending the sheep and feeding the chickens, with the help of the two girls. The soil in the garden was a bit wet, but ideal for digging potatoes. Bess and the girls spent time with the potato fork digging the spuds, and the girls would wash them in the tub that Bess had put by the garden. The potatoes were of good size, Bess thought, each a colorful red and about two inches in diameter. Marion wanted to do all of the washing, but Bess told them to share. “Share with me, Marion,” howled Helen. When each of them had washed a potato, they would put them into a wooden box so Bess could take them to the root cellar for storage.
While they were in the garden, Ken Fisher rode up to the house on his horse. “Got some mail for you, Bess,” he said as he dismounted. “Saw Doc in town and he was heading east with a glass windowpane. Must have had some damage at his place.”
The mail consisted of a new Sears catalog and a letter from Mama and Papa. Bess hadn’t heard from them for a few weeks and was anxious to find out what they were doing. “Thank you, Ken,” she said.
“Kids are lookin’ good,” said Ken. “Billy looks like he’s going to be a big boy!”
“He’s a pleasure, Ken,” Bess said. “Doesn’t cry much at night. How’s Sarah?”
“Just fine, Bess.” Ken then looked at Bess with an expression of concern. “Everything okay with you?”
“Just fine,” Bess lied. “We just finished digging potatoes, and the girls need a bath. Gonna warm up some water and put ’em in the tub.”
Ken smiled. He seemed to know that something was wrong, but that Bess didn’t want to discuss it. “Kids like mud, I guess. Well,” he said as he mounted his horse, “take care, Bess. Come see us sometime. Bring the little ones, too!”
“Will do,” replied Bess. “Give my best to Sarah!” Bess waved at Ken as he rode off toward Haley. Then it was time to give the girls a bath. She put two large pails of water on the stove and slowly heated them up until they were warm, but not hot. She had cleaned out the tub the girls had used to wash the potatoes and poured the warm water into the tub. She had to add a bit of cold water to make the temperature about right for the baths. “Okay, girls! Into the tub you go!”
The naked little girls giggled with delight and climbed into the tub. “Don’t splash, Marion,” Bess said sternly as she started to wash Helen with the soft washcloth and Lifebuoy carbolic soap. The two girls barely fit into the tub, and when they squirmed around, water would spill out over the side.
When Bess finished bathing the girls, she fed them some supper and got them ready for bed. She was anxious to read Mama and Papa’s letter.
“Will there be another storm, Mama?” asked Marion, her eyes wide in wonder.
“Not tonight,” replied Bess. “We’re safe. You can sleep safely.”
“Where’s Daddy?” the little girl asked.
Bess felt a wave of anger flash through her body. Probably drunk, she thought. “Daddy is taking care of the horses,” she replied as she tucked the girls in. She remembered what Ken Fisher had said about seeing Doc in Haley riding east with a pane of glass, and wondered what he was up to.
When the girls were securely tucked into bed, Bess fed Billy and then sat down at the table, lit a cigarette, and read the letter from Mama and Papa. Mama wrote that the weather in Cando had been warmer than she could ever remember and explained that the grain elevator where Papa worked had been damaged so severely by a fire that they had to close it down. There would be no need for a manager of the elevator, so Mama and Papa had decided to leave Cando and move to Conrad, Montana, a small town up north near Great Falls. They were planning to move immediately, and Papa would be managing the grain elevator there. In closing, Mama asked Bess for a photograph of her and the children.
Doc didn’t return that evening. Bess thought he was most likely busy at the horse ranch and gave it little thought throughout the next day. She decided to put together the little white dresses that Mama had sent for the girls and the little wrap for Billy that would be suitable for a photograph, even though it looked somewhat like a dress. The next day she dressed the children in clothes that Mama had made for them, put them in the buggy, and went into Haley to George Bennett, a photographer, and had the photo taken. Bess hadn’t even the slightest desire to include Doc.
(From left to right: Marion, Helen, Billy; center, Bess: 1914)
Later in the week, when she went into Haley to send the photo to Mama and Papa, she visited Dr. Poppe, who informed her that she was pregnant again. She could expect another child late next spring. Doc still wasn’t home. Damn him, Bess thought.
Doc finally came home five days after the storm and it was clear to Bess that he had been drinking again. The next morning, he got up without saying much, and after breakfast said, “Gotta go back over to the horse ranch. Lot of work to do.”
“Doc, I’m pregnant … again,” Bess said.
Doc stopped for a moment, turned, and nodded. He said nothing. Their marriage was on a fast downhill slide. As Doc’s horses—his first love—were gradually taken from him, he filled that empty space with whiskey. Bess acknowledged that she wasn’t close enough to Doc to step into the hole in his life, but she had hoped that his affection for their children would be enough to sustain him, even though his life was changing. She had been wrong—he wasn’t strong or wise enough to redirect his energy toward being a father. He’d rather be a drunk. Bess said nothing as he left the house and rode off toward Haley. She wondered why he had even bothered to come home.
Bess sat down at the table and lit a cigarette. Doc was visibly inebriated more often. Although he didn’t seem to have any whiskey hidden around
the house, Bess suspected that he probably had some stashed away in the shed or somewhere else around the place, maybe in the cattle pasture.
In mid-September, Bess had a memorable day! It had been over five years since she filed for her homestead. She had completed all the requirements for proving up, and all that needed to be done was to take legal possession. Bess went to the bank in Haley and filled out the proof document. She then asked Mr. Currie and Mr. Feist to sign the form that vouched for the truth of her statements. She signed the proof document, paid the six-dollar fee, and took legal possession of her land. It was hers! All mine, she thought. The clerk at the bank told her that she would be receiving a patent for the land, signed by President Wilson. Bess was thrilled, but she decided not to tell Doc, who didn’t seem to have any interest.
Despite Doc’s drinking, the homestead itself was doing quite well. Looking back, Bess knew that the spring’s lambing season had gone smoothly, and Jim Edgar, who had become very valuable to have around the place, was enormously helpful with the sheep-shearing. Jim was very nice, didn’t drink, and Bess thought he was concerned about Doc, although he said nothing. Jim was spending more time around the corral, and Bess knew that he would go over to the cattle pasture now and then to check up on the Herefords.
At the end of September when it came time to mow the hay, Doc borrowed a mower from the neighbor and intended to mow the lower field himself with Jim Edgar helping him rake and stack it. One afternoon while Doc was mowing the hay, Jim came up to the house. “Bess,” he said. “I think Doc’s drunk. I’m worried about him because that’s dangerous work.”
Bess asked Marion to look after Helen again; fortunately, Billy was asleep. She saddled Annabel and rode down to the hayfield. The horse was standing still in front of the mower and Doc was sitting down beside the mower. He had been drinking, but he wasn’t dead drunk. Bess grabbed the bottle—there was not much left—and poured what little was left on the ground, then threw it as far as she could. “To hell with you, Doc,” she screamed. Doc said nothing.
Bess: A Pioneer Woman's Journey of Courage, Grit and Love Page 24
